


Weapon of Choice

by monimala



Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: Dominance, Dubious Consent, F/M, Gap Filler, Hate Sex, I'm Going to Hell, Jossed, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 14:05:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2510411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monimala/pseuds/monimala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place in between episodes 2x02 and 2x03.</p><p>
  <i>He is more than a thousand years old. A man grown, and a beast besides. Davina is a drop in the bucket of his time on this earth.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weapon of Choice

He can still feel her soft, tender throat under his fingertips. How delightfully easy it would’ve been to crush her, to snap her head from her neck like a flower from its stem. The vision bolsters his fury, keeps him seething as she bends yet again over Esther’s accursed grimoire. The bracelet round her slim, breakable wrist taunts him with every turn of a page, every careless slip of her fingers through her hair as she tucks the awry strands behind her ear.

Captor. Mistress. Little witch. She knows not at all just how much power she wields, but she relishes it just the same. Her lips curve into a smile and she raises those impudent dark eyes to him. “You can’t burn a hole through me, Mikael. No matter how hard you try. So why don’t you just relax?” She is so very careful not to show fear. But he smells it. Along with the earthy scent of her magic and the warm spice of her skin.

“Is that a command?” he wonders, softly. For he remembers with perfect clarity how she called to him. How he killed to keep her safe. How he savored every moment of it. Her monster unleashed…only to be chained once more.

She makes a low sound in her throat, a noise of distaste that all young women across the centuries and across the world seem to have mastered. “Ordering you to relax is a waste of power, don’t you think?”

The laugh escapes him before he can grab it back. “Oh, my dear, it’s through the little things that one truly understands the depth and breadth of power.” He rises from his chair, crosses the room, and places his hands flat upon the table, knowing she could fling him back at any instant. “You could demand anything of me. Absolutely anything. That it doesn’t even occur to you is a weakness.”  

 _Anything_. Her bow-like mouth shapes the word. Her delicate brows wing together as she considers it. And then they arch in alarm as she realizes the full extent of the implication. _Absolutely anything_. He senses every moment of her youthful naivety blooming into feminine awareness. Her cheeks color. Her breath catches. She glances down at the grimoire, only the devil knowing what images spring to her mind. “That’s disgusting,” she mutters. “I would never force anyone to do…those things. And definitely not _you_.”

He is more than a thousand years old. A man grown, and a beast besides. Davina is a drop in the bucket of his time on this earth. She is lethal, this little witch, and yet so innocent. Is it that thought that stirs his groin? Or the way her blush brings up her blood? He could teach her so many things…and then drain her dry and throw aside her husk.

“Why not?” he asks. “Sex is simply another weapon, little witch. One you must learn to wield before it is used against you.”

Her teeth click together as she clenches her jaw. “Stop it.”

“Command me.” To stop. To continue. He challenges her with his voice — for he knows, all too well, the silk and strength of that tool — and the way he looms over her. “ _Make_ me. I could touch you. I could kiss you as sweetly as your first, stupid swain.”

She almost falls in her haste to get up from her seat and back away. “You tried to kill me,” she points out as her fingers curl into defensive fists.

He keeps his open. Inviting. “And these very same hands could bring you pleasure just as swiftly as death.”

She flinches, but her color is still delectably high. “Why?”

“Because I can. Because you hold that power over me.” He reminds her, even as he recalls the taste of her blood…warm and rich and just a tease of what her entire life could nourish him with if he could just take it all.

She wrinkles her nose. Child-like even though she wants desperately to be a fearsome, grown woman. “No. Why are you telling me to do this? Why would you _want_ me to?”      

The answer is simple. Mikael smiles, because he understands that this truth will be irresistible, and he unbuttons his cuffs. “In submission, there is _also_ power.”

**

 _Submission_. The skin under her bracelet tingles when he says it. When he says all of it. She’s not stupid. She knows he’s playing her. But he’s so good at it she can’t help but sway a little on her feet and feel warm all over. She knows too many handsome, magnetic creatures. This one is awful. He’s destructive. Not a gentleman like Elijah, and so much worse than Klaus. He would slaughter his whole family without a single regret. In fact, that’s what he lives for.

No. That’s what he _lived_ for.

She should be resistant, should be better and stronger. But Mikael is hers to control. Her monster. Her weapon. _Hers_.

She’s not so young that she can’t appreciate the craftsmanship of a good sword or the sleek barrel of a gun or the effectiveness of a white oak stake.

If this vampire wants her to use him, then she will. On her terms.

“I want you to kiss me.” She’s amazed by how her voice doesn’t even shake as she moves toward him, by how she’s able to hold her head high and look him dead on. How she tells him to do things she’s never said to anyone, never even dared to consider until right now. “Not like a boy. Not sweetly. Not on the mouth.”

His cold, smug gaze shifts downward. He understands. Faster than any high school crush ever could. And there’s something like admiration in his expression before her magic yanks him to his knees.

This is reckless. Insane. Beyond whispers at school and before the Harvest, she knows _nothing_ about sex. But she wants to learn. No, she wants to master it. The way she’s mastering him. So she undoes the top button of her jeans, slides down the zipper, and tells him, “Do it."

“As you wish, little witch.” His words are faintly mocking, but his body is completely at her service. Mikael’s thumbs slip beneath her waistband. He yanks her jeans and panties down over her hips in one smooth motion and helps her step out of them. And then he presses his tongue to her clit in the lewdest possible kiss.

It’s nothing Davina is prepared for. Enough to almost buckle her knees. Wrong and dirty and _oh shit oh God this was a bad idea._ But she clutches his head, anchors her fingers in his hair, and holds on for the ride.

He spreads her thighs with both hands, licking into her hard and fast. She almost expects to feel the sting of his teeth, to feel the burst of blood and the head rush as he feeds from her, but all he feasts on is her skin, her slickness, her _command_. Mikael, the vampire who hunts vampires, hunts her pleasure now, with his face between her legs.    

She was wrong. It’s not disgusting. None of it’s disgusting. Not the whimpering noises she makes. Not the wet hunger of his sucking. Not his bruising grip on her. Not the heat and the want and the need…just as beautiful and consuming as using magic. It curls tighter and tighter, spiraling higher and higher, until she’s choked with it and he’s bearing the weight of her knees over his shoulders because she can’t stand any longer.

_Oh shit oh God what is this_

It’s bigger than casting a spell, more sensual than offering her wrist to be bitten. It’s too much and not enough. For an intense, blinding, white-hot few seconds, she almost forgets everything. Who she is. Who _he_ is. Why they’re here, together, in this room. Then the tension flows out of her and awareness returns.  

“Stop!” she gasps out as he starts all over again, dedicated to teasing and tormenting her to another orgasm. “Mikael, stop!” And he does, lowering her to the ground with something like care, crouching over her as she comes back to herself. His chin is glistening with evidence of her arousal, and his eyes shine with satisfaction. Like he didn’t submit to anything at all.

“Did you enjoy the lesson?” He cocks his head and takes in her loose-limbed sprawl and how her chest heaves as she marshals her breath. He licks his lower lip. Making a show of enjoying the fruits of his forced labor. He thinks he’s won. Like every man since the beginning of time, he thinks rocking a woman’s world gives him dominion over her. She’s descended from a long line of witches who know better.

“Oh, yeah. Definitely. But _you_ need another one.” She sits up halfway, bracing on one hand as the other moves swiftly toward the rise in his pants. He’s turned on. Hard. Not so unaffected. Not so empowered. More than a thousand years, but what goes on between men and women still runs both ways. And when she squeezes, he gasps like he still depends on air.

With just a few strokes, she reminds him that weapons don’t act on their own.   

She doesn’t even have to use an order to make him come. 

**

Captor. Mistress. Little witch. She knows not at all just how much power she wields, but she relishes it just the same.

Mikael cannot help but temper his relentless fury and his hatred with pride.

For he, too, has unleashed a monster.

 

\--end-- 

October 25, 2014. 


End file.
